


If Only For One Night

by thefooliam



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-10
Updated: 2012-01-10
Packaged: 2017-10-29 07:20:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/317201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefooliam/pseuds/thefooliam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spoilers for 2x20 'Prom Queen' <br/><i>“There you are,” Brittany smiles softly.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	If Only For One Night

She knows exactly how many days it's been since they kissed. Hell, she could probably count it to the minute if she tried. There's no kiss, no touch, no damn desperate glance that she can forget. No matter how heard she tries, she always finds herself awake in the middle of the night staring at the spot where Brittany last grabbed her or accidentally grazed her skin, wondering how it can still tingle.

 

Brittany's touch is different to her words. She tries to forget some of the words Brittany says and clings tightly onto others. But her touch is something different entirely; lasting yet ephemeral, desperate but soothing. It has the ability to make her heart thump slow and fast at the same time until it's beating out a rhythm that only Brittany knows.

 

Santana's need for it is insatiable and it's weird to think that only a few weeks ago she was willing to deny that under pain of death or Rachel Berry. Everything's changed now.

 

A year ago, the amount of time she'd have to measure between touches would be minutes – seconds, even – but it's not like that any more.

 

The last time Brittany touched her was when she took her by the hand and led her back to the gym, promptly letting go when they saw a group of girls standing at the end of the hallway.

 

The last time they hugged was at the piano after she sang _Songbird_ and she had clung so tight because every time she had her arms wrapped around Brittany felt like the last time. 

 

The last time they kissed was last week, when Santana had driven Brittany home after she'd broken up with Artie and was nothing more than a teary-eyed but friendly peck to say thanks.

 

The last time they had sex was that night, the one that changed everything when Brittany had asked for more, for things to be better. It scares her that no matter how much she can remember what it felt like to have Brittany's naked body under hers, that every day it feels like she's further and further and further away from feeling that ever again.

 

And right now, even as she's standing only a few feet away from her on the sidewalk outside school, she's never felt so far away from Brittany in the entire time that they've known each other. It's frustrating because even after moments like they shared in the choir room tonight or in hallways, they still never feel any closer at all. It's like no matter how hard she wants to pull her close, Brittany always ends up getting pushed away.

 

Still, Brittany steps towards her, hands clasped together and smiles widely as she comes to a stop a couple of feet away. “I thought I was the last one here,” she says in lieu of a greeting. “Coach just left with Becky and Principal Figgin's wife came and picked him up.”

 

Santana takes a deep breath. “I had to go find Dave. I was meant to be his ride but his dad came and picked him up.” She narrows her eyes and finally notices the goosebumps that cover Brittany's arms and that she's actually rubbing her hands together because of the cold. Concern sparks as it always does and she takes another step closer. “Is your dad coming, or...”

 

“He had a work emergency and mom can't leave my little sister alone, so...” Brittany tells her matter-of-factly and Santana nods because Santana's the only one who knows. She's the only one who knows that Brittany's kind of just left to float around her family doing whatever she wants because she's not smart like the rest of them. She's the odd one out and that's what the problem was with Artie. He didn't get that.

 

Brittany sighs and shrugs her shoulders. “I told them I'd get a ride or a place to stay or whatever and yeah, so...” she laughs awkwardly before looking at her feet and it makes Santana's heart jump a little in her chest because she suddenly sounds a little hopeless and a little scared, a little ignored and if she could, Santana would wrap her up and hold her. “I was going to ask Artie for a ride but he already left and everyone else went back to a motel or something and I guess I could go find Mr Kidney and ask him if he has his Vespa, but...”

 

There's about a moment of second-thinking that goes through Santana's head before she's stepping closer and wrapping her hand around Brittany's wrist. “Do you want me to take you home?” she says softly.

 

Brittany looks up at her slowly, eyes dark and tired and heavy. Santana's breath catches at the sight of her and she gulps awkwardly when she feels Brittany's fingers enclose around her own wrist, holding tightly and bringing her close.

 

“I want...” Brittany whispers heavily, in that same voice she used earlier to tell Santana she believed in her. “Can I stay with you?”

 

It takes her a longer moment to compute the words and process them. Her mind kind of stops at the sensation of Brittany's fingers running backwards and forwards over the pulse in her wrist, and she almost says no and tells her that maybe she should just take her home because it's been a long night and because things aren't the same as they used to be. In fact, they're getting pretty different and constantly changing and growing more and more awkward and tense and they shouldn't because she doesn't trust herself enough to be in her bedroom alone with Brittany.

 

But then she realizes that this is Brittany and she's never been able to deny her anything, regardless of consequence or how hard she tries to say no.

 

When she nods once and takes a deep breath, Brittany's grateful smile takes away all her doubt.

 

//

 

All the lights in her house are off when she pulls up onto the empty driveway and she remembers quickly that her dad's working night shifts at the hospital and her mom went to visit some family for the weekend knowing that she'd just be sat home alone all weekend if she didn't.

 

It's the kind of situation that would have piqued Santana's interest considerably easy a year ago, or even a couple months ago, but now all it does is make her feel nervous and weird. The need to vomit quickly tingles in her stomach. Her hands grip at the wheel and Brittany turns to watch her as she remains unmoved in her seat, her own hand lingers on the door handle with her body half-turned ready to climb out.

 

“Are you okay?” Brittany asks confused, and rightly so.

 

Santana gulps and grips harder. She licks her lips but her mouth's dry, as is her throat but no matter how much her mouth feels like it's filled with a mixture of cotton balls and sandpaper, she can't seem to find the willpower to get out of the car and head to the kitchen for a drink.

 

“I'm fine,” she says softly, glaring her own house to rubble as she avoids Brittany.

 

When a hand curves around her knee over her dress, she flinches away slightly and turns quickly to the girl beside her. Brittany's face falls delicately and her hand withdraws almost as suddenly as it landed there and she nods to herself as she returns it to her lap and clasps her fingers together.

 

“I can go home if this is to hard for you,” she whispers softly. Santana gulps again. “I just... I miss you sometimes. All the time. Even when you're right there in front of me it feels different. I mean, I'm so happy and so proud that you're figuring out who you are; you're doing so _good_.”

 

Santana watches her smile out the corner of her eye, her head slowly turning as she sees the forlorn expression masked beneath it.

 

“And I understand that it hurts and that it's hard and that I was the one that asked you to do this...” Brittany shrugs and sighs. “It's just I miss having sleepovers with my best friend and gossiping about school and Cheerios and glee club. I miss... I miss pancakes in the morning and watching cartoons under the covers. I miss kissing you. I miss falling asleep next to you. I miss waking up with you because when you're the first thing that I see I know that I'm going to have a great day because no day gets better than when I get to kiss you good morning.”

 

She blinks away tears, her fingers loosen on the steering wheel and her posture sags a little as Brittany's face contorts with frustration.

 

“I never felt like that with Artie,” Brittany laughs mirthlessly. “I never felt that with him at all and I used to lay there beside him on the few times that his parents let him sleepover and there wouldn't be anything. I wouldn't be happy or excited or nervous. And now I'm not with him and it's not fair because I still don't get you because I ruined it by asking to change everything because I thought it would be better. I still don't get to kiss you good morning because I was too stupid not to realize that making things better would never be as easy as I thought it would in my head ...”

 

Santana's eyes spark and she jolts around to look at Brittany incredulously. “What are you talking about?” Brittany's mouth opens and closes wordlessly. “You are not stupid. None of this makes you stupid.”

 

“Santana -”

 

“No,” Santana says as she turns to unbuckle her seat belt. “None of this is your fault. It's my fault. I'm stupid. You're the smart one and I'm the scared little girl who isn't brave enough.”

 

Brittany sighs. “Santana, don't...”

 

“I want to give you everything,” Santana spits. “I want to do whatever I can to make you happy and I can't do it because I'm so _fucking_ scared all the time. I don't deserve you. You deserve the entire world and I can't even...” 

 

She trails off when the first sob wracks from within her, bubbling up from her very core and clinging to her body with the utter worthlessness that's constantly been dragging her down. Her face buries its way into her hands and her palms are soaked with tears in seconds. She just feels so undeserving all the time.

 

When a hand curls its way around her wrist, she buckles, her body curling inward as her chest aches. She hears Brittany turning more to her and then there's another hand on her knee and a forehead pressed against the side of her head and Brittany's hushing her quietly with gentle and soothing sounds.

 

“You're wonderful.” Brittany whispers the words directly into her ear and she can almost feel them slipping into her soul. “You're wonderful and you're amazing and you're awesome and I don't care if you don't think you deserve me because what does that matter when I want you anyway?”

 

Santana sniffs and lifts her head. “I just...”

 

“No,” Brittany says firmly in a voice Santana's sure she's only ever heard directed at her. “I want you. This isn't about me, okay? This is about you and about how you need to understand that you are great, Santana Lopez.”

 

The soft and hopeless sigh in her ear almost makes her burst into new sobs. She screws up her face and lets her head rest against Brittany's.

 

“Why can't you see that?” Brittany whispers genuinely curious.

 

Santana sniffs and tilts her head to the side until their foreheads rest against each other. Her hands slip from the wheel and she covers Brittany's hand on her knee with both of hers. She opens her eyes and lets them gaze deeply into bright blue ones.

 

“If I am,” she whispers softly. “It's only because you make me.”

 

Brittany's eyes soften and she shakes her head in refusal and disbelief. Tears break free from her eyes and Santana gasps as two warm hands close around her face and bring her close enough for their noses to bump together. Words fall silently from her lips and Santana stares in hopes of deciphering them, until she feels them being pressed against her own and it becomes impossible.

 

“I love you,” Brittany whimpers against her mouth and Santana's heart clenches, still not used to hearing those words slip from Brittany's lips. “I love you, I love you, I love you...”

 

It sinks in and her eyes flutter closed under the weight of them. Brittany kisses her, long and slow and desperate, thumbs stroking over her cheeks until she breaks away breathlessly and repeats the words again and again.

 

When they're all that Santana can hear, through the breathy gasps from her own mouth, nothing seems impossible anymore. Hope wells inside of her and she can feel the first signs of belief that one day Brittany will be hers and the fear will fizzle away until all that matters is that they're together.

 

But for now, for a few fleeting moments, she has Brittany and she has the feel of her flesh underneath her palms telling her that she's here and that she's not going anywhere. At least not yet, and Santana's awareness that she still has at least one more chance makes her cling at the fabric of Brittany's dress and keep her close.

 

“I love you.” It breaks out of her and into the slither of space between their lips as Brittany pulls back.

 

Hands slip down her neck and over her shoulders, one arm wraps its way around her body and the other grips at her hips and tugs. “I know,” Brittany nods as she pulls her across the console. “I know you do.”

 

She gets stuck halfway, caught in the restrictive tightness of her dress, and reality sets in a little but she doesn't care. She ventures a glance out of the window and into the neighborhood but it's dark, past midnight, and they're in her car. The ability to not care overcomes her easily as Brittany mumbles her name and presses kisses along her jaw and down her neck as far as she can reach, sliding to tug at Santana's dress. Santana moans as one of her own hands reaches to help, and it's not until deep crimson fabric is hitched around her waist that she's able to settle where Brittany wants her with a bare thigh either side of hers on the chair.

 

Santana gulps nervously and blushes a little when she realizes it. She's never been nervous about this, not even the first time when all she felt was curiosity and need. Now it's different; there's feelings and Brittany was right, it's better because it all feels magnified times a million and she's aware of her heart palpitating in her chest and the way that her skin buzzes with the need to be touched.

 

It almost feels too soon. She'd kinda become accustomed to the idea that she wouldn't be allowed this until she'd done everything she needed to do, like Brittany's some awesome reward for doing good. But here they are and it doesn't feel like that at all. It just feels like Brittany's one of the few things that she knows she's going to need to get through this.

 

“We don't have to,” Brittany whispers, noticing the sudden seriousness that's etched on Santana's features, the fear and the apprehension clouding her eyes.

 

Santana shakes her head and brings her hand up to rest on Brittany's chest. She feels her heart thumping beneath layers of soft skin and firm muscle, rattling against Brittany's chest. It's beat is so familiar it almost makes Santana cry. That thump-thump drumming against her hand feels like the most sure thing in her entire life and it makes her think of falling asleep and waking up and feeling reassured.

 

Instead of answering Brittany's words, she presses a reverent kiss to her mouth, to her nose, to her cheek, peppering kisses across her face until Brittany steadies her in a way only she knows how. Brittany drags her back to her lips and kisses her until their tongues are curling around each other and grazing over teeth.

 

And it's kinda weird. How something that started as a way to kill time – that they used to coax boys into getting them whatever they want, that they labeled as hot and sexy and nothing else, another tool in their repertoire of things that got them where they needed to be – has suddenly turned into something that sucks out their souls and became they only thing that they need to exist. Because Santana doesn't feel right until Brittany's got her arms wrapped around her, doesn't feel alive until Brittany's got her fingers tangled in her hair or until she's moaning desperately into her mouth. They become two different people when they're together that exist only in each other, meant to love.

 

“Santana...” Brittany whispers as her lips pull away bruised and swollen, seconds before they drag along the column of Santana's throat.

 

Santana whimpers against Brittany's forehead and presses a kiss there as she gasps. Her knuckles turn white as she braces one hand on the back of the chair and the other around Brittany's neck. She's no longer aware of her surroundings or the rest of the crap that's troubling them as her entire existence shrinks to this one place, this one chair and this one body that writhes up beneath her. Nothing else matters, the way that it should, when they're wrapped around each other and she doesn't care who knows about them, just that they never stop.

 

A hiss leaves her as Brittany's right hand drags its way down and around her neck and over her shoulder until it's tugging down the strap of her dress. She moans as Brittany presses a kiss to the place where her neck meets her shoulder and pulls away to help pull Santana's arm from the strap. She stares intently, hungrily, as she pulls down the fabric enough to reveal the tops of Santana's breasts and there's a smile barely on her lips as she leans forward and sucks at the skin with open-mouthed kisses. 

 

“Brit, we're in my car,” she gasps despite the way her body is arching into Brittany's mouth. She doesn't even argue when Brittany pushes the fabric down further and sucks a nipple into her mouth and swirls a greedy tongue around it. “Oh, God, Brittany... this is... My bedroom's... ”

 

Brittany pulls away with a pop and kisses her way up Santana's chest and neck until she's nipping against Santana's jaw. “I can't wait that long...” she groans as her hands glide down Santana's back and under the fabric of her dress to stroke over her ass. “I miss you...”

 

Santana slumps, her body falling onto Brittany's thighs at her words. Brittany looks at her through heavy-lidded hungry eyes, her mouth partially open. Santana smiles at her softly through the arousal that rushes through her and reaches to pull the headband from atop her head. Brittany smiles gently at her as she tosses it aside and moves back to brace herself against the chair. Brittany watches the nerves flicker across her face and her own hands, steady as a rock, reach to the back of Santana's head to loosen her hair from it's tie and remove the pins she spent half hour jamming in there. She lets them fall around them into the foot-well and onto the console and spends long moments running her hands through the tangles and knots left behind until it spills around Santana's face in thick curls.

 

“You're beautiful, Santana.” Brittany cups her cheek, and she nuzzles into it. From Brittany's mouth is the only way she'll believe those words. Brittany's the only person she can trust enough to say them as truth because she's the only person who looks at her and makes her believe it.

 

They lean in simultaneously to claim each others lips again and Santana barely notices Brittany's hands running down her sides until warm palms are pressed against the outside of her thighs. She falters slightly in her kisses at the new but familiar sensation of Brittany's hands slowly working their way to the burning hot skin of her inner thighs. She squeezes gently and Santana's mouth opens against her in a gasp.

 

“Brit...” she gasps hurriedly.

 

“Up,” Brittany whispers against her mouth and Santana complies, lifting up to her knees and quivering uselessly as Brittany quickly reaches under her dress and finds her underwear. Without a word, she pushes it down Santana's thighs until it won't go any further and lets Santana fall against her as they struggle to get it past her knees and down her calves until it falls into the foot well with Santana's forgotten heels.

 

Brittany lifts the fabric of her own dress up around her waist and Santana moans at the feel of her warm skin pressed against Brittany's. One of Brittany's arms wraps low around her waist and guides her to kneel up again, as the other starts on an inward caress of her skin from her knee, working it's way up her inner thigh. Fingers brush against her pelvis just once, before they dip down into wet heat and Santana moans at the sudden rush of relief that runs through her.

 

“Brittany,” Santana gasps against Brittany's mouth. A finger circles around her clit carefully as blue eyes intently watch every flicker of her reaction. “Oh...”

 

She hasn't had sex since the last time with Brittany. She wouldn't dream of it. Not with Sam, not with Puck, not with anyone. That's what she never had the guts to tell Brittany, that she stopped sleeping with everyone else once she couldn't sleep with Brittany because there was no reason to anymore. They weren't doing it so she didn't need to do it to pretend with boys.

 

But that didn't really explain why she never tried to start pretending once they started sleeping with each other again, other than that it wasn't as good. Brittany was literally all that she wanted everywhere, all the time. She's all she's ever really wanted. Sometimes she doubts that she's ever wanted anything else as much in her entire life.

 

When Brittany does this, when those gloriously long fingers are working against her and inside, it feels like she's falling apart and being put back together at the same time. But she wouldn't change it for the world, because there's nothing else like it. Nothing at all.

 

Brittany nudges her into a kiss that leaves her panting against her lips, eyes open and staring into Brittany's through the darkness. It's new and unexpected; she said it herself: she thought it was better without. But she can't stop watching the way that Brittany's eyes flicker darkly as they watch her or the way that her expression changes with each move of her fingers.

 

“I want to be inside of you,” Brittany whispers as her head tilts back against the head rest so she can get a better look. “I want to feel you.”

 

Santana nods, but Brittany continues stroking steady circles around her clit for long moments. When her fingers skirt down and she plunges two fingers inside of Santana without warning, Santana's not aware of the ache of pleasure or another rush of relief, but the way that Brittany's eyes go wide and her mouth falls open. She soaks up the admiration gladly and leans down to kiss her, teasing her tongue into Brittany's mouth and keeping in time with the thrusts inside of her.

 

It's different like this, she realizes quickly. Better in a million different ways. Her body rises and falls onto Brittany's fingers of it's own volition and she can still stare deep into Brittany's eyes and watch her intently. She knows yet again that Brittany's right; it's better with feelings, and her hands clutch at Brittany's cheeks as she rides steadily against the thrusts of her fingers and the stroke of her thumb around her clit. It's slow and it's perfect and they're in her car in front of her house at one in the morning on prom night and everything's far from figured out, but they're together and it's the most wonderful feeling in the world to soothe the pain.

 

“Tell me you love me,” Brittany mutters against her mouth, her head titled back to look up at Santana with wide eyes filled with awe and wonder. Santana can tell that she notices the difference between now and then as Brittany takes it all in, soaks it up in a way that shows just how long she's been waiting for it to be like this, like she can't miss a thing in case it's all taken away again. “Tell me you love me,” she repeats. “Please.”

 

Santana kisses her through whimpers, pulling away to pant hard against her mouth. Her eyes mirror the size of the moon and she groans as she grinds harder against the three fingers inside of her. “I love you,” she moans. “Oh God,” Another cry breaks from inside of her as the unbearable pressure of the build grows inside of her. “I love you... I love you... I love you, I love you, I love you.”

 

She repeats it like a chant, over and over again, until her mouth's forming the words but only broken moans of approval are breaking through the sound of their heavy breathing. Her hips cant against Brittany's hand greedily and it only makes the pressure in her pelvis grow when Brittany's mouth attaches itself back on her breast, working a slow path back up to her mouth. Santana almost sobs at the desperate need for release and works her hips to draw the most from Brittany's digits curling inside of her.

 

Her fingers wrap in Brittany's blond hair until it's a mess of tangles and curls. Brittany reaches up slowly to press their mouths together once softly, before their eyes lock again. Her eyes are softer when they find Santana's again, resolute and sure. There's so much belief in her in those eyes, so much unwavering sureness that Santana can't help but fall more and more in love. 

 

“I love you,” Brittany mouths like she knows that's all she needs, and Santana's clenching around lithe fingers as orgasm rips through her body.

 

Her back arches but she doesn't look away until she feels like her eyes might fall out if she doesn't. Her entire body curls back away from Brittany until it's almost resting against the dash and Brittany takes full advantage wrapping her mouth around a nipple again. Her hand works to bring Santana down for long moments, before she removes her hand gently. Her hands and her mouth work at Santana's chest until her muscles lazily spring back to life and she's pinning Brittany back against the seat and capturing her lips in a hungry kiss.

 

She whimpers desperately against her, her muscles sated and warm and her insides tingling with want. Brittany steadies her again, gripping at her waist as she shifts and squirms, unsure what to do next. And even once she figures it out, Brittany's still there guiding her actions because somehow she always manages to know better. She tugs on the hands that reach desperately underneath Brittany's dress and stops her body from shifting back for more room like it wants to. She takes her hands and holds them behind her as she pulls forward with her own arms.

 

When their lips find one another again, like two magnets impossibly drawn together, it's languid and slow, their lips dragging over each other. It's different in a way that surprises Santana, it soothes her and she doesn't realize it until her hands are limp at her side clutched gently in Brittany's.

 

“Let's go to bed.”

 

Their foreheads rest against one another as Brittany whispers the words. She wouldn't have heard it if she wasn't so close. Her eyes flutter open and Brittany's still looking at her in that same soft way and she hates herself for a moment that she just can't give this girl what she needs, especially when that thing she needs is herself.

 

Santana's mouth opens to say something, to apologize or make up another excuse, beg for just a little more time and for Brittany to not give up yet, but Brittany as always sees the apprehension and cuts through it quickly.

 

“Just tonight,” she whispers. “Just tonight it'll be you and me and we'll forget everyone else and we can just be together. You can be scared again in the morning, but just for tonight we can pretend that you're not and there's nothing to stop us. Just for tonight.”

 

Her voice breaks as she plays with the front of Santana's dress, rearranging it to cover her up and aiding to slip the strap back over her shoulder. Santana hates herself, but loves Brittany a little more and she bunches her hands in Brittany's dress as she pulls her forward to kiss.

 

“Okay,” she says breathlessly. “Just for tonight and in the morning I'll try to be good. I promise. I swear. I'll try to be good for you.”

 

Brittany shakes her head. “You're doing fine.” She sighs when Santana presses another one of those slow kisses to her mouth, her eyes remaining closed once she's pulled away. “Take me to bed,” she repeats softly. “Take me to bed and make love to me.” She gulps visibly as her eyes glaze over with tears. “Just let me remember what it's like to wake up with you.”

 

Santana nods and with shaky legs climbs back over the console. Brittany sits up instantly, wiping at a few stray tears before she reaches into the foot well and retrieves Santana's shoes and her underwear. Santana blushes as Brittany passes them back, and they both move to get out of the car at the same time. Their doors slam in unison and Santana locks the car and follows after where Brittany's already walking towards the front door.

 

Brittany leads them up to her bedroom, through the dark of her house, and gently sits Santana down on the bed. In the dark, she still knows where everything is and reaches for the lamp beside Santana's bed and flips the switch. The room glows in a half light and Santana watches as Brittany doesn't return to her but move to her bathroom.

 

Santana sits in silence for a few minutes, but then Brittany returns fresh faced and Santana watches her as she wipes the layer of make-up and gymnasium grime from Santana's face, the remnants of tears and hardship being lifted from her skin making her feel instantly better.

 

“There you are,” Brittany smiles softly and Santana can't help it. She can't control the way that she grabs at Brittany's hips and pulls her to stand between her legs or the way that she buries her face against Brittany's stomach just to breathe her in. Fingers tangle in her hair and there's no concern in Brittany's touch, no confusion, she just soaks up the way that Santana clings to her and waits as she pulls away, waits for the moment when Santana reaches down to slip off Brittany's shoes.

 

Brittany does look confused then. “What are you doing?”

 

Santana looks at her pointedly. “Undressing you.”

 

Recognition sparks and Santana nods. Brittany knows that this is new too. It's not them grabbing at clothes as their tongues battle. It's not desperate. There's not going to be a random button found in the corner of her room next week. Brittany just stands there unsure as Santana walks around her and unzips the back of her dress.

 

It's invigorating, this freedom she now has to touch and explore Brittany's body. They're not just sex anymore. This isn't about bodies – well, it is, but everything's changed. It's not about using each other for warmth. She loves this body almost as much as she loves the girl who owns it and every want to just press kisses over her skin rushes to Santana's surface as she leans forward to press kisses over the tops of Brittany's shoulders as her dress falls forgotten at her feet.

 

Brittany sighs at the press of warm, wet lips being pressed against the curve of her shoulder, shivers at the way Santana brushes her thick curtain of blonde hair aside with one hand as the other wraps securely around Brittany's ribcage. She can feel every movement of Brittany's diaphragm beneath the flatness of her palm. It quivers as Santana sucks a kiss at the back of Brittany's neck.

 

“That's... that's nice,” Brittany whispers softly and Santana smiles inwardly at the familiarity of Brittany's voice and how it hums through the air, pleased.

 

Her kisses venture over Brittany's skin as she moves around her body, her fingertips walking over Brittany's flesh as she lets her mouth and tongue make it's way up Brittany's throat and to her jaw. Arms wrap around her body and hands work at the back of her own dress, helping her back out of it until it pools with Brittany's on the floor.

 

It's the sweetest kind of relief when she presses their naked skin together, her teeth nipping behind Brittany's ear. Brittany sighs against her cheek and she can't help the way her lips curve against Brittany's throat. She guides them back to the foot of the bed before pushing Brittany down onto it and urging her back against the pillows, crawling after her as she shuffles back nervously.

 

And that's definitely new: A Brittany with visible nervousness etched over her pinked cheeks. She lays down against the pillows and Santana admires her for a moment, basks in the way that she looks up at her. Her fingers walk themselves up Brittany's calves, palms stroking over thighs until she can reach Brittany's underwear and curl her fingers underneath it, tugging it down her legs until she can throw it off the side of the bed.

 

Santana wastes no time, lifting Brittany's ankle under her palm and pressing a kiss to it and starting a wayward path of kisses that move up over her skin. They reach her inner thigh and Santana licks at the skin, nips it between her teeth. Brittany sucks in a breath in response.

 

“Santana...”

 

She doesn't respond, just flattens her body flat to the bed and continues kissing at the curves of her thighs and up over her hips. Brittany shakes beneath her palms and she loves it, loves that she hasn't forgotten how to make Brittany hers even when she belongs to someone else.

 

But then, wait, Santana stops. She stops and she rests her nose against Brittany's stomach and breathes in steadily. Brittany doesn't belong to someone else, at least not anymore. Her mind flashes to a time in front of their lockers, her heart aching too much to really listen to her best friend. But now she can remember it ringing in her ears.    
_I'm so yours_   
. 

 

Santana gasps for breath at the possibility. It's so close she can almost feel it brushing her fingertips.

 

It takes her a moment to realize that the brush is actually Brittany, taking hold of her hands. It almost means something. It's almost a message from some higher power and she shakes with one helpless sob of relief as she presses another kiss below Brittany's belly button and smiles.

 

She's going to do it one day. She's going to make sure that Brittany's hers. She can feel it.

 

“You okay?” Brittany mumbles breathlessly. Her fingers grab at Santana's hands, unable to get a strong enough grip and Santana nods wordlessly against her stomach. Brittany squeezes her fingers gently.

 

Santana nods again to reassure her, presses another kiss, lower down her body over her pelvis. Brittany's breath hitches and Santana feels her muscles clench beneath her lips. That's all the encouragement she needs to dip lower, to press her mouth against warm, wet heat and taste Brittany again for the first time in weeks.

 

She assumes that this is what it's like for those people who walk through the desert without water. She wants to taste as much as she can as quickly as she can and savor it at the same time. A moan breaks free from her and she barely manages to hear Brittany's gasp through the whoosh of relief past her ears. She loosens one hand from Brittany's grip, glad when that hand goes to immediately tangle in her hair, and lifts one milky thigh over her shoulder as she lets her mouth skirt more freely.

 

Her lips wrap around Brittany's clit, her tongue darting out over it to make sure that Brittany shudders beneath her. She lifts a little, gripping at Brittany's backside, and lets her mouth move lower, teasing at her entrance and lapping at the taste in her mouth. Her eyes flutter closed at how delicious it is. Her chest aches with how much she's missed it.

 

Santana moans in approval and Brittany's hand clenches in her hair. She hums and Santana sighs as the sound buzzes from Brittany, desperate to remain in control. It's two in the morning and, as far as Brittany knows, they might not be the only ones in the house. It's an old practice for her, to try and remain as quiet as possible, and usually she manages with a few gasps. But it's when she hums, one long drawn-out sound that's about as determined as it is desperate, that Santana knows that she's doing the exact right thing. 

 

She uses it to her advantage, knowing that it'll only last so long before Brittany's thrashing in frustration, and slows to an almost stop. Her mouth presses gently against Brittany, breathing against her and she waits, feeling Brittany's muscles rippling underneath her hand.

 

“Santana...” Brittany gasps out before she starts to hum again, an octave higher than before. “Santana... please.”

 

One drawn out lick along the length of her is enough to make Brittany's entire body undulate slowly. Santana sighs and presses an intimate kiss to her.

 

“There's no one else here,” she says slowly before she nips at her clit. Brittany cries out in response.

 

Santana picks up her pace again, lapping at her and burying her tongue inside of Brittany until she's whimpering beneath her. Her hips cant upwards and she leans up on an elbow to watch as Santana flicks the tip of her tongue over her and sucks across her skin, moaning in response as she clutches the back of her head and thrusts into her movements.

 

“Santana,” Brittany whimpers. “Santana, come here.”

 

Santana looks up at her through concerned, hooded eyes. Brittany drags her away, up her body and to her mouth. Santana kisses her, confused, until hands are guiding her to the place she just left and pushing two of Santana's fingers inside of herself as she groans against her cheek.

 

“What -” The words fail her and she just looks at Brittany confused as she moves with the instinctive thrusts Santana places inside of her. “Why...”

 

“I couldn't see your face,” Brittany shakes her head and she looks almost as confused as Santana. “Just don't stop...”

 

Santana doesn't. She doesn't argue, she just moves her hand inside of Brittany with the same skill and familiarity as someone playing an instrument they've been learning their whole life. Her mouth finds Brittany's throat and it's habitual to bury her face away so that no one can see. But Brittany tangles and gathers her hair until it's piled atop her head and tugs her until their lips are molding together. Her nails massage at Santana's scalp and she breathes hard against Santana until their sharing the same air.

 

Brittany whines and it's just a few more thrusts and a swipe of her clit before she's gasping out her orgasm, eyes wide and mouth slack. Santana nudges her nose against Brittany's chin and coaxes her into a lazy kiss. Legs wrap around her waist and bring Santana closer, pull her hand deeper as she soaks up every bit of the release.

 

“I love you,” she whispers once she has the ability. Santana smiles at her, withdrawing her hand gently but still noticing the twitch in Brittany's pelvis.

 

They look at each other, stare at each other intently, but don't say anything. It could be a few minutes, but for all they know it could be an hour. They just enjoy the sight of one another as they bask in the joy of the moment and the happiness it brings. 

 

It's Brittany that breaks the moment, smiling into a chuckle as she pushes Santana's hair behind her ear. “Can we get under the covers?

 

Santana smirks and nods, giggling when Brittany refuses to unwrap her legs from around her and just wiggles until the quilt and the sheets come free.

 

“What do you want to do now?” Brittany whispers once they're underneath. Santana thinks for a moment before she shrugs. Brittany rolls them over until Santana's hair fans and disappears into the black of the pillows. “Do you want to do it again?”

 

Santana smirks and pulls Brittany down for a kiss. It's a good enough answer for her.

 

+

 

Hours later, she watches Brittany from her space at the open window, wrapped in one of her sheets. The sun's probably not that far away from rising and she patiently waits for the new day and the end of this night that they've shared together.    
_Just for tonight_   
rings in her head and all she can think of in response is that she wants every night to be like this. 

 


End file.
